


Shine

by UserIsMe



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Cleaning, Ficlet, Gen, M/M, Miracles, Of course the bentley has tags, Post-Canon, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), based on discord shenanigens, verb roulette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:08:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24702832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UserIsMe/pseuds/UserIsMe
Summary: He covered every last centimetre of the Bentley in water, then scrubbed her down just as furiously. The little suds of soap settled into the black, forming clusters as they went. He paid special attention to her lights, her wheels, and—well, he paid special attention to all of her.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), The Bentley & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8
Collections: Verb Roulette





	Shine

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a verb switcheroo on the GO events discord server. For the verb I was given, see the title. I do hope you enjoy this, whoever it was that suggested it :D

The old, rusted tap stuck to the cottage shed wall hadn’t been connected to a working water supply in decades. The less old—but only slightly—garden hose was about as water-tight as hell’s plumbing on a good day. Under Crowley’s watchful sunglasses, they shaped up quickly.

“We could go for a drive,” Aziraphale had said that morning, and so they had. The weather had been horrible, dry and windy, but an angel’s delight has a way of diverting one’s attention. Crowley tried to keep his basking to below obnoxious levels.

Soon after returning, Crowley’s good mood evaporated. Of course, he thought. Of course there were consequences.

Encrusted dry sand absolutely covered the poor Bentley’s underside. Her gleaming black coat was now the dullest of brown-greys. Crowley was just about to miracle it spotless, when on a whim, he decided otherwise. Always know it was there underneath, indeed.

“I’m doing this properly,” he’d declared. But not too properly, of course. He’d simply grabbed some things from the shed and assembled them the best he could. They wouldn’t dare disappoint him.

He covered every last centimetre of the Bentley in water, then scrubbed her down just as furiously. The little suds of soap settled into the black, forming clusters as they went. He paid special attention to her lights, her wheels, and—well, he paid special attention to all of her.

By the time Crowley gave her a last rinse, he was himself quite covered in water, sand, and several stages of mud in between. He could see the splotches of dirt on his face in the mirror-bright coat of the car.

He refrained from patting himself on the back and settled for the mental equivalent. Putting the garden hose, bucket and sponge back where he’d found them was a moment’s work. Muttering about a shower, Crowley tracked dirt all over the stairs.

In the garden shed, the sponge remembered that it had been sealed up with paint. The bucket bottom buckled. The hose tied itself into several impressive knots. Before that day, it had not been snake-patterned.

Garden supplies are incapable of holding an opinion, surely. And yet—this particular assortment of household objects almost found itself looking forward to the next time it could be of assistance.

A thin ray of sunlight managed to pierce through the clouds. It made its way through earth’s dreary atmosphere until it hit the Bentley. And she shone


End file.
